


My Baby's Rose

by wisia



Category: DCU
Genre: Adoption, Female Friendship, Gen, Pregnancy, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephanie has a rose Cass didn't know about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Baby's Rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Airawyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airawyn/gifts).



> I got the idea for this actually from one of the patient I was taking care of during my clinical. And it was so touching to me, so I adapted it here for Steph. Because in one universe, she might. Thanks to stinajy and xanehawk for looking it over/beta-ing. <3  
> [for the batfamily christmas fic exchange on LJ]

                “You have a rose,” Cass said, and there was. On the left side of Steph’s ribs. A green vine trailed downward and curled in the direction of her bellybutton. Another pointed to Steph’s heart. They were markers of importance.

                Because that tattoo had not been there before, the last time they had changed together. That was almost over a year ago, and there wasn’t a rose then. But there was rose now. Prominent and glaring. Splayed on that flesh. A beautiful blooming rose, all red and alive. It was pretty on Steph’s skin, gaining texture on raised scars and grooves.

                Steph laughed. Laughed lightly, and it was almost wistful. She placed a hand over it, unashamed. But her body screamed for acceptance and don’t hate me, so Cass wasn’t surprised by Steph’s next action.

                “Here,” Steph said and guided Cass’s hand down. Cass pressed her hand against the inked flower. It was nearly the size of her hand, palm to fingertips. She studied it with awe and traced a petal. It was very different from a knife or burn mark.

Then, Cass looked up at Steph, confused.

                “Why?”

                Because Cass didn’t understand. There were many reasons for people to get tattoos. Tim explained it to her once, but none of the reasons seemed to match up. There wasn’t a reason for Steph to get such a mark permanently. Steph wasn’t vain about her scars, so she wouldn’t think about covering them. And she was stubborn, not rebellious.

                Steph laughed again, shaking her head. Not now, Cass read in that motion.

                “Come on, Cass. We’re drinking tonight.” Steph waved a hand and trooped up the stairs.

                It wasn’t till they were lying on Steph’s bed, drunk and high off wine coolers and left over beers (from the last time everyone hung out) that Steph spoke. Or rather whispered it. Whispered it into lavender sheets, muffling pain in eggplant blankets and throws.

                “It’s punishment.”

                “Huh?”

                And Cass rolled onto her stomach, rolled over and faced Steph with a puzzled expression.

                “Okay,” Steph giggled, and Cass waited because Steph’s fingers were twitching wait. Steph lifted herself up and leaned against the headboard. “Maybe not that exactly.”

                She blindly reached for the glass of wine—they had that too—on the bedside table. Steph gulped down half before passing it to Cass wordlessly. Cass took it and drank the rest.

                “More?” Cass asked, licking her lips. The word was only very slightly slurred. Her tolerance was improving, and she was still waiting for Steph to continue.

                “Yes,” Steph agreed with an excited nod of her head. “More.”

                Cass groped for the bottle that was lying near the foot of the bed on the floor. She popped the cork and some of the red liquid spilled at Steph’s next words. Cass missed the cue of Steph’s eyes, saying I’m done waiting, I’m ready to speak.

                “It’s for my baby,” Steph said. It was sudden. Abrupt. Loud, and it could have echoed in Steph’s room despite the clutter.

                The glass overfilled, and the wine sloshed horribly over the side as Cass tried to save it with a quick gulp from the brim. Steph roared with laughter at the spill before taking the bottle from her. Steph re-corked the bottle and dropped it onto the floor where it landed with a soft thud. It didn’t even roll.

                “What? Say that again?” Cass requested when the cup was not so dangerously filled.

                “You heard me,” Steph retorted. “My baby. My kid.”

                She took the glass from Cass and swirled the wine inside.

                “To remember her.”

                “Oh,” Cass said, unsure of what to do. Words were never really her forte. But she did know it felt better to talk about it.

                “Talk,” Cass demanded lightly, a hand darting in for a quick poke to Steph’s side. The opposite side where there was no rose. Steph snorted. “You’ve been learning from Babs, haven’t you?”

                She stretched, and her mood became serious again.

                “It was—it was half a year ago, I think. There was a kid that was kidnapped. And well, my kid would probably be—is the same age now.”

                Cass tugged the glass out of Steph’s hand and placed it on the bedside table.

                “Come here,” Cass commanded firmly. She pulled Steph into an awkward hug. Steph went on speaking.

                “It took an hour to ink me, and another two for color. Each stab of pain—I thought I deserve it. I know I gave her up so she would have a better life, but—“

                Steph stopped there, and Cass rubbed circles into Steph’s back, slow and wide. Just like how Steph did for her when she was in tears or frustrated.

                “You know,” Steph pushed herself away from Cass, continuing. Her blue eyes were shiny and wet with tears that wouldn’t fall. “I didn’t even look at my kid. Tim asked me, but I was afraid. I refused. I thought my dad—“

                Steph choked here. So, Cass wrapped her arms around Steph again.

                “Shh,” Cass said. “You did good.”

                She understood that. The presence of dads like theirs made life difficult.

                “I’m sorry,” Steph mumbled against her skin. “I’m not normally this upset about it. It was a long time ago.”

                “It was a long time, but you need this,” Cass replied. She pressed Steph closer to her.

                “Cry if you want.”

                Steph cried. She cried for a good fifteen minutes, tears sliding uncomfortably onto Cass’s bra and chest.

                “I’m good,” Steph said, sniffles dying down slowly.

                “Are you?” Cass asked. Steph’s grip still read, hold me longer, please.

                “I’ll be okay,” Steph asserted. She smiled her widest smile at Cass. “Thanks.”

                Cass patted her and reached for the glass of wine she put down earlier. She looked at it contemplatively before raising it into the air.

                “Toast,” Cass said solemnly. Steph stared at her, confused.

                “For your kid,” Cass clarified. With her free hand, she brought Steph’s hand up so both their hands were on the stem of the glass. They toasted the air to wherever Steph’s kid was. Then, Cass drank half of it.

                “My kid,” Steph said and finished it off.


End file.
